When I survey the wondrous cross On which the Prince of glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contmpt on all my pride. Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the death of Christ, my God; All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood. See, from His head, His hands, His feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down; Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown? Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a present far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BROOK IN THE CITY by ROBERT FROST THE CONVERGENCE OF THE TWAIN; LINES ON LOSS OF THE TITANIC by THOMAS HARDY INDIAN WOMAN'S DEATH-SONG by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS GROWN-UP by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY SENTINEL SONGS: 1 by ABRAM JOSEPH RYAN THE END OF THE DAY by DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT |